


all you sinners

by nekostar



Series: better leave your lights on [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Bad Dirty Talk, Feminization, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Outsider, Peeping Tom(my Hagan), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slut Shaming, Unrequited Love, Unsafe Sex, Vague References to HIV/AIDS Epidemic, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekostar/pseuds/nekostar
Summary: Tommy doesn't know why he stays. Keeps coming back, night after night. Keeps watching, keeps hearing— why thefuckdoes Tommy keepcoming back?
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington
Series: better leave your lights on [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709008
Comments: 10
Kudos: 177





	all you sinners

**Author's Note:**

> the amazing response for my first fic was insane, i wanted to write more for you guys in celebration of 200 kudos <3
> 
> in my previous fic, billy notices tommy watching him and steve, so billy plays up the dirty talk. here's that scene from tommy's pov! *sad jerking off noises* it's all sad pr0n, my friends. enjoy! 
> 
> tags from the previous part still stand for this part. it's not necessary to read part 1 to read this part; this is pwp basically.

Okay, so, Tommy doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, coming back night after night. Watching Hargrove fuck into Steve, over and over again.

It kinda feels like witnessing a car crash. Like, you can't help but watch in disbelief. Keep coming back, can't stop _staring,_ because it's so _wild,_ seeing it in real life.

One of the many nights that Stevie lets Hargrove fuck into him like the slut he so clearly is, Tommy feels like something's a little different. Like, instead'a straining to see what the fuck is happening, he's in the perfect position in the woods— across from a lounge chair that's been moved around, probably by one of the Harringtons' fuckin' _maids,_ so he can see _everything_ Hargrove does to Steve. Like, instead'a just the tones of their voices and that awful fuckin' _I'm-so-in-love-with-you_ laughter, he hears everything Hargrove says in Steve's ear loud and clear. Like, instead'a the prickling heat behind his eyes, and the difficulty breathing, and the welling up of bile in his throat, Tommy's feeling the heat in his groin, and the difficulty of not jerking his hips up, and the swelling of his cock, trapped tight in his jeans.

Like he's turned on or something by their fag shit, instead'a disgusted.

Whatever, he's _not,_ and even if he was, it's not his fault. Stevie practically looks like a girl, getting fucked. He's all long hair falling into his eyes, his pretty fuckin' doe eyes, chest chewed raw by Hargrove's fangs; it looks like he's got tits. He's a deer felled by some mountain lion. It's a car crash. It's the adrenaline. It's _not_ Tommy's fault.

So Tommy's crouching in the woods, looking like that creepy pervert Byers, trying not to throw up— his mouth's filling up with saliva, you know, like right before you spew— and just, like, adjusting his dick in his pants, because crouching is just— you know, awkward. Sometimes you gotta move your dick around so it's in an okay position, when you crotch. Crouch. _Fuck._

He's making sure that whatever this— this _thing_ that Hargrove and Steve are doing, is real. That he's not having some fucked up nightmares, or something. He's just— gotta double check. Triple check. Whatever.

Like, he's pretty sure that when Steve said _I love you,_ that was a fever dream. Why else would it make his chest hurt like that? How could Steve love Hargrove, love someone like _that,_ when Tommy—

Anyways. So he's crouching and hiding and adjusting, and the light turns on in the backyard, and Hargrove steps out. Why he's even bothering to wear his stupid red shorts, when he's just gonna pull 'em down and bend Stevie over—

Hargrove lights up a cigarette and smirks. It almost feels like he's staring right at Tommy, and Tommy _freezes,_ doesn't dare even _breathe._ But Tommy knows he's been careful. Why the fuck would Hargrove and Steve keep fuckin' outside, anyway, if they knew Tommy was there?

Well, they have been fuckin' in the backyard all summer. Maybe they're into that kinda shit, bein' seen. But there's no fuckin' way that Hargrove knows Tommy's— _supervising,_ or whatever, because Tommy's nose is still intact. Fuck, considering how much of a psycho Hargrove is, Tommy would be lucky to be _alive_ if Hargrove knew Tommy was—

He's not _watching_. That would imply that he means to sit down and— whatever. He's just making sure it's real. He's keeping an eye out. He wouldn't keep coming back, otherwise. What the fuck would he get out of watching Hargrove fuck his ex-best friend? It's not like it's porn, or anything; it's _disgusting._

It's _disgusting,_ the way Hargrove coaxes Stevie out of his mansion, out onto the concrete patio, to the lounger right in front of Tommy. The way that Hargrove splays himself along the pool chair, breathing smoke into Steve's face, like an asshole. It's _disgusting,_ the way that Hargrove tells Steve to drop to his knees, makes Steve bruise them up on the hard concrete while Hargrove leans back on the chair, looking like he doesn't give a fuck that the hottest guy in Hawkins—

Hargrove flicks the end of his cigarette into the pool. Steve makes an annoyed face, still down on his knees like a whore, looks like he's gonna start bitching, but Hargrove grabs him by the chin. Presses his thumb into Steve's plush bottom lip, slips it into his mouth, presses onto Steve's tongue. Stops Steve from making any sort of verbal protest. Jesus, Tommy's _seen_ where Hargrove puts his fingers, has seen them thrust all up in Steve, but Stevie just kneels there, taking it. Eager for whatever else Hargrove is gonna put in his mouth.

Hargrove grins, switches his thumb out for a couple fingers instead, feeds them deep into Steve's mouth. Steve, the little slut, moans around them, blinking prettily up at Hargrove. Cigarette butt in the pool completely forgotten, like he didn't spend _years_ bitching out Carol and Tommy about how it was bad for the pool and how he hated pulling the soggy remains outta the filter. Like _he_ was the one that cleaned the pool, and not one of the fuckin' maids. Fuck. Or the pool boy. 

God, Steve probably fucked the _pool boy._  


Hargrove uses his other hand to press against his stiffening cock; Tommy can literally _see_ him getting hard over Stevie's little display. Hargrove runs a bare foot along the front of Steve's tenting blue shorts, lets out a laugh when Steve moans again, trying to press himself closer. Jesus, how fuckin' desperate is he? Steve would get fucked by anyone, probably. Yeah, he definitely fucked the pool boy. And now he's fuckin' this one, goddamn Hawkins Community Pool Lifeguard— glorified _pool boy—_ Billy Hargrove. What a slut.

Tommy doesn't think he's ever seen them _begin_ like this. Usually shows up just as they're finishing, when Hargrove's filled Stevie up with his cum, fingering him and feeding him the spunk that drips out, wiping it across his bitten-red lips. He's never been here for the whole show. Just the end, when they're kissing and laughing at each other like fuckin' fags, like two guys can be okay together, like they're in _love._ It's hard to breathe, with how gross it is, seeing Steve on his knees for Hargrove, just waiting.

If Steve was so fuckin' good at _waiting,_ then why the fuck was he here with Hargrove, instead'a—

"You're so fuckin' _pretty,_ baby, drooling for my cock," Hargrove says, smirking like an asshole. _Drooling,_ Jesus, who the fuck would _drool_ for Hargrove's cock? Tommy's seen it in the showers at school, and in Steve's backyard; it's not that fuckin' great. Steve apparently thinks differently though, and Tommy has never felt like they've had such opposing opinions during a decade of friendship.  


Steve fuckin' whines, chokes around Hargrove's thrusting fingers, says, garbled, "Billy, _please—"_ God, they're _so_ close, Tommy can hear them both _perfectly._ It's like Steve's getting his mouth fingered right in Tommy's ear. It's a fuckin' miracle that no one else has caught them, the way they just put on a show out in Steve's backyard. Tommy's never seen Steve look so _good._ How can Steve just kneel there and look so _good,_ doing what he's doing, so pale under the moonlight, blinking up at Hargrove, looking so _devoted—_

"Don't worry, baby," Hargrove croons, pulling his fingers out, wiping spit across Steve's cherry lips. They've always been so fuckin' _red,_ so _plump;_ Tommy's spent years teasing Stevie about sharing Carol's lipgloss. Now they're glossed with saliva, gonna be glossed with something even worse soon, Tommy's pretty sure.  Hargrove strokes his fingers along the length of Steve's throat, rests his whole palm along the side of Steve's neck, looking like he wants to grip it tight. Like he wants to slam Steve up against something, like he slams him up against the lockers every day. Tommy wants to see him do it. Just so that it's like normal, like they're at school, like this isn't actually happening. So he has something to look at, other than Steve's lips. "You can have it. That's it, that's right, take me out. I wanna see you choke on it, baby."

Steve follows Hargrove's orders, tugs down the obscene red shorts Hargrove put on for some reason, like they weren't gonna fuck as soon as they got outside. Wraps his hand around Hargrove's definitely-smaller-than-Tommy's cock, jerks up and down. Trails his tongue from Hargrove's balls all the way up, dipping his tongue in the slit, pressing the tiniest kiss on the tip before sucking the head inside. Jesus, yeah, Stevie's a bonafide cocksucker, now.

Steve looks so fuckin' _eager,_ eyes bright, movements enthusiastic. Who the fuck _wants_ to suck a cock, Jesus, what a faggy thing to do. Carol rolls her eyes but does it for Tommy because he likes it, but he knows it ain't fuckin' fantastic for her, the way that Stevie's obviously pretending it is. The way that he's _drooling_ for it, just like Hargrove said. Gross. If you're the one sucking a dick, how the fuck do you pretend that it's anyone else other than a guy—

"C'mon, baby, keep your hands on my thighs. Just your pretty mouth; you can take it all down." Steve obeys, lets Hargrove pin his hands down, slides the entirety of Hargrove's dick into his throat, no problem. Stevie's a cockslut that's been _practicing._ "That's it, sweetheart, yeah, _choke_ on it, choke like the _slut_ you are."

Yeah, Steve's practiced; takes Hargrove's cock and hits the back of his throat, moans, gags, _chokes,_ and goes back for more, exactly like the slut Hargrove and Tommy know he is. Jesus, the noises, the slurping, the drool and pre dripping outta Stevie's split-open mouth; Tommy's gotta sit down, okay, he's been crouching for a while, and those two are just getting started, and Tommy's gotta keep an eye on them, make sure this is actually happening.

Steve's so _loud_ about it, swallowing down Hargrove's cock, whining, moaning, that Tommy can practically feel it all, like Steve's doing it to him, not Hargrove. Feels Steve's noises reverberate in his chest, all the way through the rest of him, shake him to his core. That's how captivating it is; how fuckin' _good_ Hargrove's been giving it to him, Steve's doe-eyes shining, looking up at him. So fuckin' _pretty,_ Stevie's always been so— Tommy's gotta— he's just gotta adjust himself, okay, he was crouching for so long.

Hargrove's leaning back on the pool lounger, looking like he doesn't give a fuck while Steve's giving him what's gotta be the suck of his life. Jesus, what Tommy wouldn't give— Tommy doesn't even _see_ Hargrove, practically, just his cock that Stevie's bobbing up and down on. Like Tommy's watching him suck anyone's dick; could be Hargrove, could be some random guy at a party, could be the _pool boy,_ could be _Tommy—_

Hargrove gets a hand in Steve's pretty hair, cards his fingers through it, then pulls it tight, like he's pulling Stevie's reins, his leash. Uses the fistful to push Steve down harder on his cock, forces it even deeper, make him choke even more. Holds him down until Steve's squirming, then pulls Steve off his cock real quick, leaving him a second to splutter. Hargrove smacks his cock across Stevie's face, smears spit and pre all over Stevie's cheeks, and lips, and chin. Jesus, Tommy's never seen anything look so— Hargrove groans, then shoves his cock right back into Steve's throat, thrusts lazily for a bit, while Stevie just kneels there and takes it like a good boy. Like a little _bitch._ "You're doing so _good,_ baby, c'mon, get up here, you're gonna hurt your knees."

Like Hargrove gives a _fuck_ that Steve's hurting his knees, Jesus, he put him there in the first place, he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. Burning Stevie's knees red, probably so he could look at them later, in the mansion tonight and out in public tomorrow, remembering exactly what Steve did for him. God, if Tommy sees Steve in public tomorrow—

Steve pulls off of Hargrove for a second, scrambles on top of him on the lounger. Desperate, easy. _Slutty._ He licks his lips, and swallows down some of the mess that Hargrove defiled his face with. Blinks all pretty at Hargrove, says, "Was that— was that okay?" _Was that okay?_ Is he fuckin' serious? Does Steve not know he's a fuckin' cockslut, a champion blow queen, probably sucks dick better than reigning Hawkins Blow Queen Jessica Olsen—

Hargrove grins. "So fuckin' _good,_ baby; told you you'd be a natural. My perfect little cocksucker." He plants his hands on Steve's ass, squeezing, possessive. God, like he's got any _right—_

Steve grins bashfully back, rolls his eyes, rolls his _hips_ against Hargrove's, says, "Yeah, well— I kinda learned from the best."

Holy _fuck._ Does Steve mean— no. No, there's _no_ way. Fuckin' a guy up the ass is one thing, okay. Hargrove is the _macho_ -est guy Tommy knows. There's _no_ way he's sucked a cock, no fuckin' way. No way he taught Steve to suck a cock, other than with verbal commands. Stevie's a fag, that's undisputable, but he's always the one getting fucked here, not Hargrove.

"Goddamn right, you did," Hargrove smirks. He drags Steve in for a kiss. Pulls him down by some fuckin' chain around his neck— wait a _goddamn_ second, is that Hargrove's _necklace?_

Steve's _never_ worn a piece of jewelry in his fuckin' life; even he's not that faggy. But _Hargrove,_ yeah, Tommy's seen that necklace all the time because Hargrove _doesn't take it off._ Or well, apparently he _does,_ just to collar Stevie like a fuckin' dog, like a _bitch._

Yanks him around like he's on a leash to kiss him, Jesus, Steve was _just_ sucking his fuckin' cock, has still got spit and pre all over his lips and chin despite licking it up, maybe Hargrove really _has—_ "C'mon, move up. Show me your tits, sweetheart, gonna make them _red_ and _raw_ so you can't wear a shirt tomorrow without thinkin' about me."

_Tits,_ Jesus, fuck. Steve's a little bitch, okay, Tommy's not arguing there, but Steve's a _guy,_ what's that even gonna _do —_

Make Steve moan, apparently, okay. Okay. And Hargrove makes good on his promise, bites and sucks and pulls, makes Steve's nipples puffy and red and raw. Like a _girl's._ Makes 'em look even better than Carol's. Jesus. Tommy's never seen better tits. He's always liked them smaller, anyway. Stevie's got the perfect little handful, now, Tommy could just reach out and— 

Really, though, if anyone’s got tits in this backyard, it’s _Hargrove,_ whose muscles have muscles, and constantly has his shirt open, _tits_ on display. Who's he kidding, here?

"You still wet from before, sweetheart?" Hargrove says in Steve's ear, still so fucking loud, so close, moving on from Steve's chest, biting along his jaw. Steve whines, bares his throat. Tommy's never noticed how pale, how long, how _pretty_ Steve's throat is, until it's been put on display, the little freckles that dot him like constellations _—_ "Am I gonna be able to just slide in, real easy?" What, they fucked earlier? How many times can they go in one night? And Stevie just _lets_ him, lets Hargrove do whatever the fuck he wants, stays wet and open for him— Tommy adjusts himself; his pants are uncomfortable, and he's been sitting on the ground for a while.

"Yeah, Billy, baby, _please—_ c'mon, I want you to—" 

Tommy _cannot_ believe he's living in a world where Steve Harrington calls Billy Hargrove _baby_ when he's about to get fucked up the ass.

"Shh, _kitten,"_ Hargrove soothes mockingly, "you're gonna get it. Gonna give it to you so good again; loosen up that fuckhole like I did earlier." _Jesus,_ what's with all the pet names, it's _so_ faggy—

Hargrove's been gripping Steve's hips so tight, Tommy's sure he's gonna leave bruises. Holds Steve down, holds him still, so that Steve can barely rut against him. Delayed gratification, what an _asshole,_ Tommy would never leave Steve hanging—

_C'mon, get to the main event,_ Tommy thinks stupidly, suddenly, shifting around as quietly as possible. It's just— he doesn't need to— maybe this was too much.

"Billy," Steve says breathily, biting his lip and fluttering his lashes like a girl, _"fuck_ me." 

This has been _so_ fuckin' much.

Hargrove laughs, and Stevie just _smiles,_ corner of his mouth turning up. What an _asshole_ Hargrove is, who could _laugh_ at what he's looking at— "Yeah, gorgeous, I got you." Hargrove spits into his hand, jerks his cock a couple times. "Sit on it, baby. Ride that cock the way you've been desperate to." Hargrove practically _rips_ Steve's tiny blue shorts off, chucks them right in Tommy's direction; Tommy sucks in a shocked breath at how close they land to him, grateful for the shake of the bushes to cover his noise.

_Stevie's had those since seventh grade,_ Tommy thinks numbly, looking from the torn blue shorts to Steve's ass, so round and tight and hole already _wet._ Hargrove's got his fingers pulling Steve apart, _inside_ Steve already, testing. 

Hargrove tells Steve to ride him, but damn if Hargrove isn't the one in control, here. Digging his fingers into Stevie's hips, holding him still, Hargrove thrusts all the way up into him, whole fuckin' cock in one go, and pulls out the loudest moan Tommy's ever heard; Steve's gonna wake the _dead._ Stevie's just sitting there, sobbing around his lower lip trapped between his teeth, sitting there and _taking_ whatever Hargrove gives him, head thrown back like he's in a cheap porno. It's so _animalistic;_ Hargrove laughing, both of them groaning, the slick noises, _how the fuck is Steve so wet inside,_ that he can take it with just spit, not being careful. Tommy's only ever seen this energy in porn, he's never— Jesus, it's so intense. Carol would never let him treat her like a fuckdoll, like a piece of meat just made to fuck, the way Hargrove's treating Stevie.

"Oh, God, _Billy—_ please, keep going— there, _there, harder—"_

_C'mon, Hargrove, give him what he_ wants, _give it to him_ harder—

"You like being my _bitch,_ baby, just bending over for me whenever I want?" Steve _so_ clearly does, lets Hargrove do anything, would probably fuck him in public, like Carol and Tommy did that one time at school— God, yeah, Hargrove's _definitely_ fucked Steve in the locker room, probably in the showers, where Tommy's seen them both soap up, hands running all over— "You like _begging_ for it like a bitch in heat?" Hargrove pulls Steve down, down by that fuckin' chain again, closer to him, starts chewing all over Steve's chest, his neck, his jaw, his ear. Steve whines, drooling from Hargrove's brutal thrusts.  


_"My_ pretty little bitch. You take it bare from all the boys, or am I just _special?"_ God, what the _fuck,_ why aren't they using a condom, why do they _never_ use a condom, they're gonna get that fag disease, doing that. It's a fuckin' surprise to Tommy every time, no matter how many times he sees them do this. It's so fuckin' _hot_ though, Carol never lets him get it in bare— maybe if she did it would be easier for him to get it up— and Stevie looks so good all filled up— fuck, _no—_

"N-no, there's no one else, _Billy,_ fuck—" _Liar,_ Steve's a _slut,_ he's given everyone a ride except for—

_"No one_ in this town could give it to you this good, Stevie." _Bullshit,_ Tommy could— "You'd let anybody watch us, but you're _mine, no one else_ is allowed to touch you." Thinks he can stake a claim, like Steve wasn't Tommy's _first,_ like Tommy didn't call him fuckin' _Stevie_ first, like Tommy coulda _been_ Steve's _first—_

They're so fuckin' _loud,_ the slapping of skin and Stevie moaning like a goddamn two-bit whore. How the fuck is Steve so _wet—_ he's gotta feel like a girl inside, the way that Hargrove's going at him. Tommy can only imagine what he feels like inside, how tight and warm and Stevie looking down— what it'd be like if he could just shove Hargrove outta the way, take his place, slide up in _—_

Tommy's almost surprised that Stevie isn't _crying_ yet, he's getting dicked so rough.  


"Fuck, _Billy,_ yeah, I'm yours, _fuck_ me, you're so _good—"_ Nearly there, but Hargrove hasn't pushed him over the edge yet, doesn't _know_ how to make him cry like Tommy does—

"That's it, beg for it, baby, beg for my _cum_ in your _cunt,"_ Billy _purrs._ Like an _asshole._ Like the mountain lion about to strike at the deer. Steve fuckin' _whimpers_ at that. Jesus, God, Carol would punch Tommy right in the dick if he ever said _cunt_ to her face while fuckin' her. Steve really is a girl, getting his _tits_ sucked and getting fucked _bare_ in his _cunt,_ like some dumb slut. "Cry for me, baby, I wanna hear it. Say _my name._ Let me know who you _belong_ to." Asshole, _asshole,_ motherfuckin' _ASSHOLE—_ _  
_

"Billy— Billy, I'm _yours,_ please, I want it so bad, fill me up, God, Billy, please, I wanna be full of you, make me cum, _Billy—"_

Stevie doesn't do much, other than let Hargrove jackhammer into him, sobbing Hargrove's fuckin' name. Tommy's waiting for the tears to drop, still. It's a miracle the lounger hasn't broken. Tommy can't handle the way Steve's dick is leaking everywhere; he's not sure at this point if Stevie's wetter on the outside or the inside. He can't handle the way that Hargrove's dick slides in and out so fast, so noisily, so _hot—_ the way that Stevie's hole just sucks him in, so fuckin red and _wet,_ looking just like his _mouth—_

He can't handle the way that Steve's fuckin' _shaking—_ all the _noises_ that Steve lets out, like he's right in Tommy's ear, like _Tommy's_ the one fuckin' into him— 

Then he watches, struck, chest heaving in time to Steve's as Steve cums untouched, pale back arching, arms shaking. Toes _curled._ Cums just from being rutted into by the animal that is Billy Hargrove, who follows soon after, cumming inside Steve the way that Tommy would never _dare_ to. 

Rage and bile bubble up inside his throat, coat his insides, burn his eyes. Tommy _hates_ the way they look at each other, the way that they're so _happy,_ and the way they just _touch._ Like it's natural, like they've done it millions of times before. Like they'd _never_ want anyone else _—_

Hargrove pulls out of Steve with a sick, slick noise; he taps his cock against Steve's hole a couple'a times before he pulls Steve over him, leaning over, just to get a look. Puts his hands all possessive on Stevie's ass, pulls him apart, shows off everything to Tommy. "Yeah, that's it, look at your filthy _hole,_ baby. You're so fuckin' _full_ of my cum." Jesus, _Jesus Christ al-fuckin'-mighty_ , Stevie really is so fuckin' _full_ of cum, dripping out, sloppy, he's so red and used. His hole is as red and puffy and glistening as Hargrove got his _tits_ to be. Hargrove's got his fingers in Steve, stretching him out some more, playing with him. Pulling his cum out just to shove it back inside. He's gotta be so warm inside, so loose, so _slick —_ Steve's pushing ineffectually at Hargrove's probing fingers, sated, happy; Tommy can't _believe_ he looks like that. Hargrove spreads Steve's legs apart even more, gives Tommy an even better view.

And Tommy's heart skips for a second, blood suddenly runs _cold,_ because he _knows—_ it's only ever going to be a _view,_ and he's _never_ going to be able to touch Steve like this, when he's happy and fucked out and so, so—

"So _pretty,_ my pretty fuckin' _gorgeous_ slut, you did so _well,_ baby."

 _"You're_ so filthy," Steve groans, slumping down onto Hargrove. Shoulders shaking, eyes closed, like he's happy, like he's trying not to laugh. Nosing into the crook of Hargrove's neck. "Oh, my _God."_ Why the fuck is Steve so _happy?_ Jesus, he just got used like a whore; he's Hargrove's fuckin' _whore._ _  
_

Tommy's ears are ringing, his pants are way too tight. It's hard to breathe. Struck by the way they look, and what he just sat through, and his racing heart— Tommy can't hear them now, despite how close they are. All he can hear, over and over again, are the noises, and the pet names, and the laughter— Stevie taking Hargrove's cock and sobbing for more, the intimacy that two fags shouldn't have— and now they're _murmuring_ to each other, and that hurts even more, now that Tommy can't hear it and can only come up with all sorts of wild things that they could be saying to each other. How easily things like _baby_ and _gorgeous_ and _kitten_ and _sweetheart_ and _Stevie_ drip from Hargrove's lips, even easier than _slut,_ and how Steve clearly lives for them, _smiles_ at them. All these things that Tommy could never, would never _allow —_

He barely hears Hargrove whisper something in Steve's ear, barely notices them get up, Hargrove sweeping Steve up into his arms and carrying him inside, like the princess Stevie is.

Tommy's breath is coming in pants. Jesus, fuck, what's he been _thinking,_ coming over and watching— _checking up_ on them— he wasn't fuckin' _prepared,_ he needs a goddamn minute.

His dick is so fuckin' hard, it's disgusting. Whatever, _whatever,_ it's just like when you watch a porno, and you watch the guy's dick fuckin' into the girl, it's just that it's there, _okay,_ and Steve's like a girl, and it doesn't— it doesn't _mean_ anything. It's just the _sounds,_ and those two pretending like they're a normal couple, it's _fine,_ it wasn't because they're two guys, and Carol hasn't sucked Tommy's dick in a while, _okay?_

Something in his chest is _breaking,_ and _—_

He just needs a minute, _okay?_

**Author's Note:**

> _(Tommy doesn't need a minute, just fifteen seconds. But that's between him and the woods lining Steve's backyard.)_


End file.
